Everlasting
by teamfreewill82
Summary: For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem an eternity. For others, there is never enough. For the Lightwoods, it didn't exist. [EDITED]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own _The_ _M_**_**ortal Instruments**_** or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Welcome! *smiley **

**Prologue- **

_It began the first week of summer, a strange and breathless time when accident… or fate, bring lives together, when people are lead to do things they've never done before. _

_For Clary Fairchild, one thing was true–the heat of summer was not nearly as stifling as the formality of her life. With every passing day the feeling grew stronger. She was coming closer to the end of something and moving towards the beginning of something new. Change was in the air. It was only a question of when. _


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with it! Tell me what book references I used from TMI in this chapter and you'll get a shout out. *smiley Also, reviews are always welcome. And the year is 1914, by the way.**

**Chapter One- **

Sunshine. Blindingly bright in midday. Clarissa Fairchild was stretched on her back in the grass of her family's spacious front lawn, emerald eyes searching the sky and watching the birds fly by while tree branches of the nearby wood swayed on their endless blue background. She liked to observe these things and more, when she had the time. Any second now her mother, Jocelyn, would be calling her to come inside and practice piano.

"Clarissa! Where have you gone?" called Jocelyn, as if she didn't already know, right on cue.

"I'm here, mother!" Clarissa shouted back, then rolled onto her side. To herself she muttered, "I need a new name. One that's not so worn out from being called so much."

"Clarissa, come inside this instant; your beautiful dress is getting filthy!" reprimanded her mother. Jocelyn's figure was framed in the doorway when her daughter turned her head to see her, red curls gently catching around the dandelions.

"I'm coming!" Jocelyn shook her head, turning to go back into their too-large house (Clary's opinion).

She pushed herself onto her elbows, reluctant to reenter her life. Just then Clary heard a series of yews, a cat. She turned to see the small thing grey thing, so grey to be nearly blue, still as can be just beyond the tall fence keeping Clary in. Huffing, she stood to go to it, both the fence and the cat. She squatted in front of them, and this caused her dress to hitch but she ignored it.

"Hello," Clary greeted the animal. "I see you have your freedom. Must be nice, huh?" Clary glanced away towards the wood. "How lucky," she murmured, "to be able to just… go whenever you please."

"Clarissa! Must I call you incessantly?" her mother shouted. Clary jumped up, brushing herself off quickly as she ran.

"No, mother," she said when was near enough. "I apologize." As usual.

**That morning- deep in the wood**

"Rob," Maryse whispered to her husband. "Robert! Wake up!"

He stirred, hands flying up to his eyes and rubbing. "Goodness, May! What'd you wake me up for? I was having that dream again, the good one–the one where we all die and go to Heaven."

Pulling on her boots, Maryse shook her head. "No use dreaming such things, you know that. It isn't going to happen."

He snorted while she laced them up, closing his eyes once more. "Where're you going anyway?"

"To town, Robert! The boys'll be getting here soon and I plan on meeting them," she told him, pulling on her shawl.

"Don't need that shawl, Maryse." Robert was so used to her dressing habits he knew with his eyes shut that she would be putting on that damned thing even in this hot weather.

"Oh, well," is all she said, not removing it. "I'll be back later."

"Sure," he murmured to her retreating figure, already falling back into his dreaming.

**In town- **

Maryse walked slowly, quietly through the town, her head down and not making direct eye contact. It had been ten years since she'd last her boys. But, they were people of few choices.

She bought nothing, as she was in need of nothing, only glanced at the items because she would be thought of as strange if she _didn't_ browse at the market. After what she considered to be a good few minutes of appearing like the others, she sat herself on her cart and began winding her music box adorned with silver flowers and vines. Quite beautiful, and she'd had it a very long time.

Suddenly Maryse heard a shout of, "Mother!" Her head flew up to see her youngest son. "Jace!" she shouted, her inconspicuous nature forgotten. Upon reaching his mother, Jace picked her up and twirled her, and when he set her down she held his face in her hands, brushing his golden-blonde hair from his face. "Oh, Jace…"

His eyes lit up as he reached for something from his satchel bag. "Ma, I got you this!" It was a small statue, about seven inches tall. "It's the Eiffel Tower, the Eiffel Tower from Paris, France! God, I swear you've never seen anything so tall in your life!"

Maryse smiled, laughing, and then heard murmurings behind her. Her eldest son was speaking to his horse, Simon, in low tones. She turned to him, clutching the statue tightly. "Alexander. Give your mother a hug." He did so, firmly, breathing in her familiar soap. It hurt him more than he could admit to be away from her for so long. "My Alec. Ten years. How have you been?" She took them in excitedly, from Jace's light locks to Alec's black cut. "My boys. It's so good to have you back. Come on, come on; let's go home, shall we? Your father is waiting…"

The boys, mostly Jace, spoke of their adventures on the way back to their cabin, his excitement infectious. Even Alec spared a smile once in a while.

Robert greeted his sons with hugs and slaps to their backs, a large smile on his face. "Nice to have the family back together, eh?" he said to Alec.

He shrugged. "I'm joining up, soon as we leave again." Robert stared at him. "Can't stand being in this place any longer than necessary."  
"Think it'll change something, do you?" his father asked.

"I know it will. Look, dad… People are onto us. I know it. I can _feel_ it. There's a man… He's been following us. We've lost him, but he always catches on. I think he knows something. This man…" The laughter of his mother and brother cut him off, the tension broken. Alec spoke louder, so they could hear and be serious for once. "We're being tracked." Both stopped mid-laugh.

Jace glared at him as their parents' expressions became concerned.

"Come on, Alec, we lost him," he said. "Why d'you always have to go and spoil everything?"

"Yeah, we lost him, Jace. But for how long?" Alec asked. "He keeps coming back." He looked to his father to help him talk some sense into Jace.

"Only a matter of time until someone found us," Robert said. "Walls are closing in. The entire forest is almost gone. All except this little wood."

Robert patted Alec's shoulder and told his family, "I don't want anyone going into town. Not for anything. See any stranger's getting too close in the woods you know what to do. No exceptions." His eldest son nodded; Jace only stared at him.

**Later that day- the Fairchild estate- **

It was nearly eight in the night, and Clarissa was again outside. On her short legs she jumped into the air in an attempt to catch a firefly. Needless to say, she had just been desperate to stop playing the piano for _five minutes_.

She had just pulled down her empty fist when she heard a voice from behind her say, "You'll never catch one that way." Clarissa spun around, taken by surprise, and saw a man in a fine white suit standing just outside the fence. For once, she was grateful for the protection. She did not know him. His white-blonde hair stood out like a beacon in the darkness, and from where she stood his eyes were black.

She moved slightly forward, aware he wouldn't be able to pass the gate. Close to him, she could see that he appeared to be possibly near her parents' ages.

"Do you know anything about catching fireflies?" she asked him, only a bit of attitude breaking through her tone.

The stranger appeared amused. "I'm afraid not. I've never tried. I prefer… bigger game. But I'm sure the strategy is much the same."  
"Strategy?"

"One must never announce their presence to their prey," the man clarified. "Must become part of the scenery. One must… disappear, and be patient until the exact, right moment arrives." His hand flew up imperceptibly and grabbed a firefly beside his face; Clarissa jumped in surprise. She laughed and he smiled. "I've taken a prisoner… for you."

She shook her head. He seemed nice enough, but she surely wouldn't go any closer to retrieve the bug from the man's closed hand. "No, thank you," she said politely. He hesitated only a moment before releasing the firefly.

"Quite right," he said. "A girl of your age is more interested in catching suitors than trapping insects anyway." He lifted one slender, pale hand to tap the fence. "Have you lived here long?"  
"Forever. Why?"  
"I'm looking for some old friends. They live here as well and I was hoping that some of the natives could help me find them."

"My father practically built this town," Clarissa told the man, for some reason being made to feel odd by his presence. "He knows everyone; perhaps he can help you."

"Perhaps," he echoed. "Though I quite like talking to you."

Before Clary could say anything in return, Jocelyn's voice rang out her name as she moved toward her daughter and the man behind the fence. "Clarissa, who are you talking to out there?"

"I don't know!" Clarissa replied. Glancing back to the man she added, "He hasn't told me his name." She said nothing more, and the man spoke out when Jocelyn reached them, her pretty eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Good evening, madame, please forgive my intrusion. This young lady tells me you've lived here forever, and I thought you might know a certain family that goes by the name–"

"I hardly know everyone nor do I want to," Jocelyn told him, her hand coming to rest protectively on her daughter's back. "And I don't stand outside discussing such a thing with strangers."

"I beg your pardon," the pale-haired man said. His dark eyes again came to rest on Clarissa. "Good evening, young lady." To Jocelyn he bid the same, and she turned herself and Clarissa away for the house.

"This is why I worry for you, Clarissa," snapped Jocelyn, "because you don't have the good sense not to talk to a man like that."

As they moved toward the house, the man in the white suit began to whistle a pretty melody. It faded into nothing as he walked on down the road.

**The following day- **

"Again," repeated Jocelyn. Clarissa's fingers had slipped, the high note turning abruptly low.

"Mother, my fingers are killing me. Can't I take a break?"

Jocelyn shook her head without hesitation. "Practice makes perfect. Pastries do not." Clarissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes upwards, looking back to the keys. Her mother returned to chatting with her grandmother, leaving her daughter to frown.

"Hello, all." Luke, her father, had entered the parlor with a wide smile, and his appearance made even Jocelyn's lips break into a smile. He kissed Clary's head and she grinned up at him.

"Luke. Good," Jocelyn said. "Sophie!" The maid, Sophie, scurried into the room.

"Miss?" she inquired.

"My mother is feeling a bit tired, Sophie, bring her to her room." Sophie nodded, hurrying to help Adele to her feet.

Once they'd gone, Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild, their expressions somber, faced Clarissa. She wanted to say, "What have I done this time?" but kept her mouth shut.

"Clarissa, we have great news," her mother began. _Uh-oh. Then it must be bad._ "We've gotten you into the Middlehouse Academy for Girls!"

Jocelyn had a pleased smile on her face, the opposite of her daughter's open horror. "Middlehouse? But that's a terrible place; everyone says so! Mother, daddy–"

"Now, now, sweetheart, Middlehouse is one of the most reputable schools in the country. It will be an honor for you to attend finishing school at such a place," Jocelyn told her. "It will teach you manners and etiquette, two things you of which you are sorely lacking. You are already going to be 15, remember." Clarissa bit the inside of her cheek, wanting to scream at her mother. Luke remained still, not looking so enthusiastic.

"Father, please, don't make me go!" He appeared pained.

"I'm sorry, Clarissa, but this is what's best for you."

She clutched her skirts, her emerald eyes tearing up. "I don't want to be one of those girls! I won't do it! I won't and you can't make me!" she shouted before jumping up and running from the house. She made it to the iron fence, gripping the bars like those of a jail door as she breathed hard.

Why couldn't they understand? They wanted to send her so far away and yet they failed to see that all she needed was to step outside her own fence. And, Clary decided, she would.

**The wood- **

Clarissa spun around slowly, taking in the whole of her surroundings. To think all of this had been a mere 50 yards from her small patch of world, all she'd known. What in these quiet woods could be so forbidding? She had always sensed a mystery there, waiting for her. Beautiful sun beams filtering in through the tree leaves bathed her face deliciously with its warmth. The sounds of nature–birds, wind rustling, animals chattering–filled her ears, and she traveled deeper into the forest, not caring enough to notice. So glad to be free in a place to entirely different from what she knew. So far away from her tight, pruned world.

But, eventually she had to realize that she hadn't been in these parts before, and did not know where exactly she was. What would she do if she couldn't find her way back?

Just when she was about to panic, the surrounding foliage no longer appearing so welcoming, Clarissa heard the quietest trickling of water and desperately glued all of her attention on the sound. Listening intently, she followed it.

She stopped just on the edge of a small clearing consisting of a large tree and tiny spring of water. Kneeling over that was a boy dressed in brown britches and a baggy white shirt, much more practical–though obviously much less appropriate for herself–than her flowing dress, of which had now become quite filthy. Her red locks were slipping from her braid, as well. The boy was washing his face in the spring, sipping occasionally.

A twig broke when she stepped forward and, knowing she had been caught by the way his head perked up, Clary moved fully into the space. "Hello," she said tentatively.

"How long have you been there?" the boy asked her without a greeting in reply. His tone was somewhat sharp, but his voice pleasant to the ears. He had golden hair, and even from some feet away Clary could see his amber eyes.

"Not long. I was passing by, really." His lips quirked slightly into a grin. Clary thought he must be near her age, or a couple of years older.

"You shouldn't be in these parts of the woods, little girl. You should probably just turn around and go home." When Clarissa didn't move an inch, he snapped at her, "Well go on! What're you waiting for?"

"Excuse me? I'll leave whenever I want to. And my name isn't _little girl_," she told him peevishly.

The boy stared at her with those golden eyes of his, his head tilting in the slightest. "Then what is it?"

"Clarissa." Her mind told her that that was wrong and so she amended, "Clary Fairchild. My father owns this wood," she informed him proudly, though not quite sure why she was so proud.

He laughed. "Really? A Fairchild? Impressive. But, like I said, you need to leave."

"It just so happens that I _was_ on my way home before you so rudely told me to be and would be glad to be on my way… if I actually knew which direction the way would be."

"In other words," Jace said, "you're lost?" He was far too amused for Clary's comfort and, keeping her mouth set, she glared at him. Jace rolled his eyes. "I'll point you home."

He steered her away, inconspicuously blocking the water, and she poked her head around his shoulder. He was nearly a head taller than her, standing up. "Wait," Clary said, "I'm thirsty." She stepped around him and he jumped back in front of her.

"No!" His velvet voice broke with panic and it made her do as told.

"What? Why?"

"It's–The water is poisoned," Jace fibbed.

"But I just saw you drink it," she said to him accusingly.

"Yeah, well, I'm beginning to feel a bit sick myself so…" He rocked on his heels.

"I'm thirsty," she repeated, stepping forward again.

He grabbed her arm with no time to be gentle about it. "Listen, you don't wanna drink that–"

"Let go of me!" she shouted, wrenching out of his grasp. She turned and ran back into the foliage; Jace breathed out heavily, following her.

"Don't run away! Come on, Clary, hang on! Don't run!"

She only stopped when she slammed straight into another body, a man. He held her tightly, his face grim. "Going somewhere?"

She struggled against him, but his grip was firm and impossible to break. Jace appeared then. "Alec, hang on, let her go–"

The man–Alec, apparently–ignored Jace and dragged Clary, as her feet were planted, next to him. "You know what dad said, Jace. No exceptions." He went on his way and Jace went after them, protesting along with Clary all the while.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Reviews help me know you're liking it, so help me out would you? **

**Chapter Two- **

Alec left his brother on his own while he rode Simon through the forest with Clary held firmly in his arms. He did not say a word while they galloped on and Clary was so frightened she, too, couldn't think of anything to say. As it was, she could hardly take a breath in they were going so fast.

Behind them, Jace ran as quickly as his long legs could carry him, breathing hard. He shouted his brother's name more than once, but was greeted only with the sounds of the wood in reply.

Sure, their father had said no exceptions–but surely Robert would make one for the daughter of the man that owned the land on which their home rested upon! If Alec would just _listen_ every once in a God damned while– But that wasn't likely, and so Jace was stuck taking every shortcut through the wood that he knew better than the back of his ageless hand.

She was just a girl. What would they do?

**The Fairchild estate- **

Sophie shouted for Clarissa, going as far as the fence on the Fairchild property. Luke stood with her, his kind, worried eyes scouring for his daughter. Inside, Jocelyn was by herself in the parlor, the expressionless mask she wore unrevealing of her twisting stomach.

**The Lightwood cabin- **

Mrs. Lightwood was contentedly sweeping her porch when she heard the tread of her son's horse arriving home.

Alec told Clary, "We're stopping here," and jumped down from Simon. Maryse looked at them, then, her movements coming to a standstill upon seeing the unknown girl. Alec hauled Clary down from his horse and she bit her lip to keep from crying out at his rough handling. She made her body deadweight, however, and allowed herself to fall to the ground.

Maryse hurried toward them, her skirts bunched in her hands. "Alexander!" she cried. He held Clary unrelentingly, pulling her forward. "Let the poor girl go!"

He did so, and Clary hurled herself forward to land on the leaves. Maryse reached for her, her eyes wide. "I caught her at the spring with Jace," Alec told his mother. "She's a Fairchild."

"By the Angel…" Maryse murmured. "It's finally happened. I didn't know your father would be proven right so soon…"

Tears were forming in Clary's eyes, and she hated herself for it. "I wanna go home, please, I just…" She broke off with a sharp, shallow breath in, trying to control herself.

Maryse knelt down before her. "Please, don't cry. We're not–we're not bad people. We'll take you home just as soon as we can, I promise you." She stood and faced Alec. "Go find your father. I'm sure he'll know what to do." Alec nodded solemnly and, with a last glance at Clary, took Simon and headed off. He muttered an obscenity about his younger brother and then was gone.

Maryse, her face taught with worry, took her music box from her skirt to play. The tinkling melody sounded so familiar, Clary thought, and her eyebrows drew together as she tried to remember why. "I've heard that before," she said aloud.

Maryse's crystalline eyes found Clary and she smiled warily. "Oh, have you? I've had it a long time."

Clary pressed her lips together, hoping she wouldn't cry in front of this woman she didn't know. She wouldn't even want to cry in front of her own mother. Maryse sat on the wooden bench a couple of feet away from Clary and added, "I put my baby boys to bed with it every night." She was clearly hopeful that mentioning this would show Clary that she wouldn't harm her, but Clary's expression was still frozen in fright. Maryse sighed. _Oh, Robert, Please tell me you know how to fix this… _

**Later, 7:00 p.m.- **

Jace had arrived home a little while after this, but his mother had refused him allowance to see the girl–she was scared enough as it was without seeing anybody else, and so Maryse sent him on his way to his father and brother.

Now, Clary was seated in the cabin while Maryse fetched her something to drink. She looked around, willing herself to stand and make a run for it, but the wiser part of her knew that it would be useless. Even at that moment, Maryse was coming back.

"I'm sure my boys didn't mean you any harm," she reassured Clary, holding out a small goblet of water.

"Then why did they bring me here this way?" demanded Clary. "Why am I here at all?"

Seeing she wouldn't accept the water, Maryse set it on the table beside her. "You have every right to be upset–"

The door was flung open and a deep voice rang out, "Is this the child?" Three men entered–Jace, Miles, and in the front was who Clary assumed to be their father.

Maryse saw how Clary looked down at the word _child_ and said, "She isn't a child, Robert."

Behind Robert, Clary could see that Jace had tucked in his shirt and, if her situation weren't so terrifying, she might have laughed.

Robert came forward and bent over Clary, examining her. Clary stared at him with her eyebrows lifted, and after a second of this had passed he erected himself, appearing uncomfortable.

Maryse stood and made her way to her family. They murmured amongst themselves, and as they grew louder Clary could hear snippets of angry exchanges.

Alec glared at Jace. "Now she knows about us, thanks to _you_, you idiot–"

"She's a Fairchild," Jace snapped back. "Maybe she _already_ knows–"

Clary got to her feet and stood with her arms crossed over her chest. "Know _what_?"

As though they had all somehow forgotten she was in the room, the Lightwoods froze and looked back at Clary. After a moment of all of them awkwardly staring at the young girl Maryse announced, patting Robert's chest, "This is Robert Lightwood. My husband." He held the hand she had put to his chest as though it could give him strength. "Robert, meet Clarissa Fairchild." He released his wife's hand and walked over to Clary. He greeted her and offered his hand, of which she defiantly declined.

"Well," Maryse said, "why don't we all have something to eat; I'm sure you're all starving."

When Clary dared to lift her eyes from the wooden floorboards, she saw Jace's amber eyes were still on her. Half of his mouth turned up in a smile before he went to help his mother.

Throughout the dinner the Lightwoods chatted and laughed, but Clary could hardly look at them. They were so different from her own family, reaching for food across each other and eating things all at once. She was sitting beside Jace and his gaze would occasionally fall upon her as though expecting her to say something, anything. The third time he looked at her she did, though she was sure it hadn't been what he thought it would be.

"My father will come looking for me."

Everyone stopped eating, except Robert. He was calm and just eating anther forkful of pancake. "The way things have been around here, I'm sure your father will cut down what's left of this forest to find you," he agreed. "What with all that money he's got–"

"He does. He does have a lot of money. He'll pay you."

"We don't want your family's money," Robert told her, his voice soft.

Clary balled her hands into fists beneath the table, hard enough to draw blood where her nails cut. "Then let me go home!"

Maryse sighed. "We'll let you go home–"

"But before we do so we have to be able to trust her!" Robert said to his wife.

Alec rolled his eyes briefly. "_Trust_ her? You must be out of your minds. We can't trust her."

Jace's tawny eyes narrowed at his brother. "You don't know that." Surprised at his coming to her defense, Clary nearly looked at him in gratification but held herself back.

"You're a fool," Alec told Jace bitterly. "You can't even see what you've done here for a pretty face, how badly you've messed up. Again." Alec threw his fork and cloth napkin down onto the table, scraping his chair back on the floor. He took his coat and slammed his way out of the cabin.

The only sounds to be heard were the crickets chirping outside. Clary kept her eyes on the table and failed to notice Jace's attention on her once again.

**The Fairchild estate- **

As she had been the entirety of that day, Jocelyn Fairchild stood at her window, toying with her locket and unable to draw her eyes way from the outdoors. Bags were prominent beneath them but she stared at the gate, praying that Clarissa would come through it. Her daughter did not, but something tickled at her mind.

The man from the previous night, the one that was so clearly near to Jocelyn's age. Hair so pale as to be white, his suit the color of the clouds.

"Him," she murmured to herself, her voice cracking. "It's him." Raising her hoarse voice, she called her husband's name.

**Police department- **

Luke, having taken his wife at her word, had hurried to the police station to file his report. But, because there was no solid evidence, Chief Scott asked, "What do you expect us to do, Luke?"

"I expect you to _find_ her, Ralf; it's your job isn't it? My wife is certain that the man that did this is wearing a white suit. You can't miss _that_!"

"And your wife is certainbased on what?"

Luke's eyes flashed. "Her instincts," he bit off.

"Hm. Well, then, Mr. Fairchild, you'd better come inside here." Ralf pushed open the door to his office, revealing the deputy, Jordan Kyle, and–

The man in the white suit stood from his chair and walked towards Luke. "Am I the man you're looking for?" he inquired easily, a small smile playing at his lips. "I do believe I fit the description." Luke looked him over in astonishment.

"My wife…" Luke tried. "She said she saw you talking to my daughter."

"Yes, I had been. She's a charming girl, isn't she? Full of… fire. She's run off, has she?"

"Yes, it seems as though she _has_ run away, in a literal sense," said Ralf. This Luke refused to believe. How could it be? He prided himself on being a good father, and believed for good reason that if your child left willingly it was because you weren't doing a good job as their parent.

"My daughter did not run away!" Directly to the man in the white suit he said, "If you know anything about where she has gone to, sir, you had better tell me."

"Well, Mr. Fairchild, I'm sorry to disappoint you but I do not. Though, coincidentally, I am here looking for someone myself. I'm seeking a family that I know used to live here and was hoping the constable could help me locate them." He removed a black and white photo from his pocket and held it out for Luke to see. "Goes by Lightwood; a name I believe is very hard to mistake."

"I'm sorry," Luke said, "I can't help you."

"How unfortunate. Nor I you." The man collected his things and ducked out of the room with a quiet "Good evening" tossed over his shoulder.

Once he had gone, Luke looked back to Ralf. "Find out what happened to her, Ralf. Please."

**The Lightwood cabin- **

Maryse was setting up a sheet to block the corner of the house sectioned off for Clary as the young redhead removed her dirty dress. Her corset, so very tight, would not be so easy to take off. Mrs. Lightwood looked at her and smiled. "Would you like my help?" she asked Clary. Her tone and face showed only kindness and the wish to help, and so Clary nodded. Maryse began to unlace the corset and Clary spoke. "Do you have a daughter?"

"No," the woman told her, sounding almost saddened. "But I do have a granddaughter. And a grandson." She paused to show Clary the pictures of them she kept in her locket. "Isabelle and Maxwell. My Alec loved them so very much."

_Loved. _"What happened?" Clary asked. Maryse shut the locket and continued with the corset.

"They died. Their mother, Maggie, too. For a while now I've been afraid the good parts of Alec died along with them. You'll have to forgive what's left of him."

"I'm sorry," Clary said quietly.

"No need to apologize for things out of your control, Miss Fairchild. It's… It's the way things are." She leaned forward slightly. "Would you mind if I call you Clary?" The girl shook her head, smiling slightly, and Maryse grinned. "So do you have brothers or sisters?"

"No. I think that's why my mother focuses so much attention on me," Clary admitted.

"A parent loves their children. I know when my boys have to leave, I can hardly bear it."

"Where do they go?" inquired Clary.

"Oh, many places. Just a few days past they were in Paris! Jace brought me back a little statue of the Eiffel Tower, he did. He's convinced Paris was his favorite city yet. He always enjoys himself, but of course he's young." Clary smiled when Maryse laughed.

They did not know that just above them Jace was awake and listening to this exchange. He smiled, stretched on his back. His golden hair surrounded his head like a halo.

Maryse helped Clary into one of her nightgowns. "I hope you'll be comfortable here. It's a good feeling having another woman around."

Clary glanced at the floor. She'd never felt like a woman at home, only a child. How had she come here and all of a sudden grown a foot taller?


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Find the reference to the first book, tell me, and I'll give you a shout out! **

**Chapter Three- **

It was nearly half past six when, while everyone else slept, Jace crept down the staircase of his house. Peeking his head into Clary's corner he whispered her name once, then added uselessly, "Are you asleep?" Clary rolled over and held herself up by her elbows. Her red curls stuck up around her head.

"Not anymore," she muttered. She dropped down once more as he grinned and knelt beside her mattress.

"How would you like to see the Eiffel Tower?"

Clary raised her eyebrows at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Right now. While the day is still ours."

**The Fairchild estate- **

As the constable had promised a search party with a few dogs was sent out to search for Clarissa Fairchild.

Luke ran out from his house and shoved a white piece of fabric into Ralf's hands. "It's her nightgown. Take it for the dogs. Now, we'll start at the north end and we'll split up at the lake."

Ralf nodded. "We'll find her."

"I know we will."

**Deeper in the wood- **

Meanwhile, Clary and Jace were running through the forest. He led the way, glancing back at her occasionally with a small smile. She would roll her eyes at him and he would continue moving forward. Eventually, though, he stopped at a rocky hill and began to climb. He helped her in front of him in case she fell backwards–into him and therefore relatively safe–and followed her up a few feet before she paused.

He pointed skyward at a huge stack of grey, jutting boulders. It reached high into the sky and they had to squint through the sunshine to see it.

"There it is," Jace announced.

Clary looked back and forth between Jace back to the boulders. "That's it?"

"The one in Paris is pretty tall. But mine's two feet higher." His lips quirked into a grin and she laughed at him. They continued to climb, he continued to offer his hand along the way, and Clary continued to accept it. Nearing the top she inquired, "Have you really seen the real one, in France?"

"I have. I climbed all the way to the very tip–all 1,652 steps. It was much easier than this." Clary laughed and inclined her head to grin at him. He returned it with one of his own and asked her, as he had been doing every once in a while, "You alright?" She nodded and they kept at it.

"If I went to the Eiffel Tower," she went on, "I'd take an elevator."

"Not with me," Jace told her. "You'd walk with me and up every single step."

"Oh, really? Why is that?"

"Well, the experience, of course. The journey. Getting there but having to work for it and eventually reaching the goal that you know is waiting for you. It was amazing."

"Very philosophical. Sounds like you've had a lot of experience with that kind of thing," observed Clary, stepping over a patch of moss.

"Well," Jace said, "I've been around a while."

"How old are you?"

He hesitated only a moment. "Something you should know about me, Clary–I don't lie. I'll always tell the truth, always. So if you don't think you can handle something, it's better not to ask it. Do you really wanna know how old I am?"

"I said I do."

"Well, then… 104."

She looked up at him, at the boy climbing beside her. His hair was falling into his eyes and her fingers itched with the urge to itch away. "You're serious?"

"I am. But let's just go with 17."

They spoke a bit after this, but both were mostly left to their own thoughts. Arriving at the top was magical. Clary stood straight despite her sore back, her braided hair frizzy and her skin damp with sweat beneath her dress. She was a bit behind Jace, who had his arms spread wide.

"There's my Paris," he declared.

"The view from the Eiffel Tower can't be better than this," she breathed, gazing out at the beautiful and never-ending vegetation that was stretched out before them.

"I've seen a lot of views…" said Jace, "but this one has to be one of the best." She looked at him when another moment had passed. "Thank you." He turned his eyes to her in question. "For taking me here. This is amazing. I never thought… I never thought I'd ever have the chance to do anything like this."

"Well, it's amazing, isn't it? The things you can find in your own backyard if you just have the courage to look for them?"

Clary nodded, leaning forward slightly to look at the ground so far below them. Jace lifted an arm to hold in front of her stomach. "Careful," he said.

She raised her eyes to Jace and murmured, "You know, I've grown pretty used to being careful."

**The Fairchild estate- **

Jocelyn's fingers ran across the piano keys skillfully, gracefully, but her mind was elsewhere, not on the keys themselves but rather the memories they held within. Memories of her daughter. Along the top of the piano were scattered pictures of Clarissa, as well, and Jocelyn's eyes kept coming to fall on them again and again. Where could her baby have gone?

_Clary_ _was beginning to lose track of time. Had she been there a day, running through the fields with Jace by her side? A week, sitting and watching as Maryse hung laundry along the line? A month, taking Jace's outstretched hand in her own? It seemed to Clary that the Lightwoods lived in a way the rest of the world had forgotten. Like how Jace had taught her how to bring a deer close, remain still and quiet so it would come to you and allow itself to be rubbed along its back. They were never in a hurry and did things the slow way. For the first time, Clary felt free to explore, to ask questions that she knew would not be judged in the negative. To play._

One of those many days, Clary allowed Jace to pull her into the creek, uncaring of her wet shoes and dress. His hand in hers took away the ability to mind such mundane things; the pressure of both on her waist guiding her across the fallen tree acting as a bridge heightened all of her senses.

They came to rest beside the bottom of the waterfall, and Clary thought again of how she would never grow used to breathing in such an exquisitely natural scent.

"How long do you stay here for?" she asked him once they were settled.

"Oh, however long I wish to. I love my parents and I like to stay here and see them as much as can be allowed. Alec… he's a bitter pill. But he's been through a lot, and so I try not to mess with him too much. What about you?"

"What about me?" Clary said.

"What's your family like?"

She fiddled with her hands. "My mom's favorite pastime is telling me how she wants me to live my life. My dad does everything she says. My grandmother is too old to do much of anything. And then there's just me."

"What's wrong with you?" Jace asked, gently nudging Clary. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. Nothing, I guess. Just my mother, acting like the weight of the world rests on me and whether or not I can efficiently play croquet."

"Well, I can agree with you there. That's a terrible game." He grinned at Clary, making her laugh. "I agree," she said. "She unfortunately doesn't see it that way."

"Parents can be tough," said Jace. "But in my experience, it's easier to get along with them if you do just that–get along."

"How can I get along if she doesn't hear me when I talk?"

Jace considered this. "Make her listen."

"Easier said than done. Sometimes I just wanna leave town, go somewhere interesting. What about you? Where do you wanna go? Or have you already been everywhere?"

"Nearly," Jace joked. "But I'd like to go more places, you know? See every bit of the world it has to offer. Maybe I'll even find some new continents or something." Clary had to laugh at that idea, and Jace laughed with her.

He jumped up suddenly, removing his pants. Clary gaped at him in astonishment. He grinned and, as though nothing had happened, continued, "I mean, I've been to a lot of places, but the world is _huge_."

Clary slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. "What are you _doing_?" she asked him as he pulled of his shirt.

"I thought you were a lot of things, Fairchild, but blind? I'm going swimming!" He stepped over to the edge of the cliff and then looked back at Clary. She stared back at him, disbelieving.

With a shout Jace threw himself into the lake, and Clary hurtled forward to see if he was alright. "A bit chilly," Jace yelled up to her, "but otherwise great."  
"Are you crazy?" Clary said, although she already believed he probably was. "I can't jump down there!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't have a death wish, moron!"

"Oh, come on, Clary, just do it already!"  
"Jace, I've swam maybe twice in my whole life! The odds are against me and I'll probably _drown_!"

Wiping his soaked hair out of his eyes, Jace looked up at her in surprise. "Drown? You're afraid you'll _drown_? Swallow too much water, sink to the bottom, and die?"  
"Thank you for putting it so vividly!" Clary shouted down to him. "Considering I can already tell I'll sink like a rock, yes, drowning is a fair concern."

"Well. That settles it then, doesn't it? I'll just hang here for a while and you can wait up there. You don't mind, do you?"

Clary glared down at him and then, after considering her options, got to her feet. She first removed her shoes and afterwards began to undo the back of her dress.

Once all she wore was her undergarments, Clary teetered on the edge. Then, keeping her eyes on Jace's expectant but cool gaze, she plunged into the water.

Her red head tore its way to the surface of the water and she shouted, "Jace!" wiping lake water from her eyes. He grabbed her arms and said, "Hey, you're fine. Relax. You okay?"

She nodded, laughing a little. "Yeah. You're lucky I didn't die."

"I sure am. And besides, you did it. You've conquered your fear. How does that feel?"

"It feels wonderful," she told him. His hands were holding her by the waist and when he went to release her Clary exclaimed, "Jace, don't let me go!"

His grip tightened perceptibly on her at that and he said, "Alright. No chance." Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he leaned against it. "I'll never let you go. Promise."

**Town- **

A drunken Alec had just won another round of poker, the band on his left hand's ring finger glittering as he reached for his spoils. Unable to help himself, the somber face of the man across from Alec made him snicker. The man leaned forward.

"I don't like being laughed at by a cheat," he informed Alec.

The Lightwood stopped chuckling and became serious. "Cheat's a nasty word. Me, I much prefer card shark." He winked and the man pushed back his chair to stand.

"Are you _looking_ for trouble?"

"Well," Alec said thoughtfully, "no, I'm not, but it sure seems to find _me_." The bartender hurried over and grabbed Alec before a fight could ensue, and the shouting drew the attention of a certain man dressed in an impeccably clean pearl suit. The workers and other men of the bar threw Alec onto the dusty road, along with his hat and coat. He thanked the bartender sarcastically and was on his way.

Through the door a moment later followed the man in the white suit, a smirk appearing as he watched Alec walk away.

_Now… _he thought to himself, _now I've got you. _

**The wood- **

Far away, Jace had scouted out a cave for himself and Clary to dry out in. He had gotten a fire going while Clary contentedly watched him, unbraiding her hair. It now fell down to just above the middle of her back, her skin and undergarments illuminated by the flames.

Jace tromped back in with branches and twigs, setting them next to the fire and then standing beside Clary.

"D'you hear that?" he asked of her. She glanced at him and then looked back to the stars. The crickets were chirping, water was splashing, animals rustled deep in the wood, owls hooted.

"It's beautiful," she agreed, dropping down beside the fire. He settled down next to her and adjusted them both so she could rest her head on his stomach.

"You know, Clary…" he started. "We could travel the world, do everything together. We could have a million moments like this, if you want." She smiled against him, and he went on, "There's something you need to know about us, Clary. I swore to them I wouldn't tell you, but…"

Clary sat up to look into his eyes. "You mean a secret? The reason you don't want anyone to know about you?" He nodded slowly, and her eyes widened. "I knew it. What are you? Bank robbers?" He looked down, smiling, and said, "You're the first person I've ever wanted to tell the truth."

Clary smiled back at him, a blush appearing from her neck to her cheeks. "Well, you're the first person I've ever wanted to–um–" She leaned forward quickly and pressed her lips to his. Aware he hadn't been expecting it, Clary pulled away after a half second. "That. To do that."

A half-smile came to Jace's face, his eyes lit. "Well, I certainly don't mind." He lifted his hand to her thick hair and smiled fully. "But I will say I'm honored." He kissed her nearly as briefly and then dropped his head. "Look, Clary… Do you remember that giant oak tree and spring where we first met, and how I'm 104 years old?" Clary nodded to both of these things and laughed slightly.

"Well, it really is the truth. Clary, I'm gonna live forever, and I'm never gonna change. Just like my brother and parents. Something happened to us. Until someone tells me any different, I'm gonna be 17 'til the end of the world."

Clary looked down, unsure of how to react. "It's the spring, Clary. The water, we figured there must be something in it… Like if you had a drink right now, you'd stay just like you are–"

The sound of twigs snapping cut him off, and both turned to look at the trees. It was Alec. "Don't you wish he'd told you before you kissed him?" he asked Clary bitterly. "Did he tell you immortality isn't all the preachers crack it out to be?"

"Leave her alone, Alec," said Jace, glaring at his brother.

"Why should I? You're the one spilling our secrets, wanting her to hear it all, right?"

His eyes piercing, Jace said, "You just don't want me to have a chance at what you lost."

Alec, his mouth open, could only stare.

"Stop," Clary spoke up. "Stop it both of you. And tell me the truth; I wanna know."

Alec, his blue eyes revealing nothing, nodded and he stepped forward. "We all drank from that spring, except for the cat, Church. That's important. That water tasted like heaven. Our father carved a _L_ into the trunk of that oak to mark where we'd been and we moved on west, looking for a place to settle down. We put up a house for our parents and another smaller shed for me and Jace."

Glancing down at the stone ground, Alec paused. "Jace fell thirty feet out of a tree, that idiot, deciding he wanted to climb a bit. That was the first time we realized… there was something different about us. He should've been dead straight away, no doubt in our minds. But he was standing on his feet again before our mother could even cry out. Jace wasn't hurt at all, nothing."

"But how is that even possible?" Clary voiced her confusion. Jace couldn't look at her.

"That isn't all," Alec said. "Hunters mistook ma's horse for a deer but… those bullets didn't even scratch his skin. Dad got bit by a rattlesnake and you know what happened then? He didn't die. But Church, our cat, he did. Old age." Alec looked at his hand, then, twirling the band around his ring finger. "And I got married." His voice grew quiet as he remembered this, his family. His eyes were shining.

"Izzy. My little Max. Our dad figured soon enough it was that spring that caused our… changelessness, but my Maggie… she wouldn't drink from it. She left with Izzy and Max, and I begged her to come back but she refused, saying I'd sold my soul to the _devil_." Alec snorted. "She left me, and she took our babies with her. After she'd done that, everyone followed suit. Talk of witchcraft, black magic. They set everything we owned on fire, and we had to keep moving. I went off looking for wars to fight. Can't be hurt, why not put it to use. I saw so many men die out in those fields… but not me. I prayed for it to be me. But I _couldn't_ _die_. Like my little Isabelle." Clary's eyes widened. "Influenza took her from me before she was barely 15. And Max? If he's still alive he'd be nearly 80."

Alec had to take a breath in, shakily, and closed his eyes tightly. "My sweet Maggie. She died in an insane asylum, old and alone, convinced she was crazy because of _me_. Tell me, Clary–why am _I_ still here? What did I do to deserve eternal suffering but drink from a damned spring?"

Crying freely, Clary was forced to tear her eyes away from Alec's sorrow filled face. Jace tried to get her to look at him, but Clary's hair was hiding her face from view.

It took a little while for all of them to regain their composure, and for the elder brother to sober, but once they had they went on their way back home, Jace holding Clary's slender fingers in his own as Alec lead Simon on foot in their wake. Across the lake, the sun rose and birds chirped, but none of them felt much like enjoying the serenity of their surroundings just then.

When the threesome walked back onto the Lightwood property, Jace and Clary still entwined, their parents studied them. Just by the expression on Jace's face they could tell he had told Clary the truth.

"You're the only other person outside of this circle who knows about us," Robert said to her. He lifted hers and his son's joined hands and broke them apart himself. His hand took the place of Jace's as he told her, not unkindly, "We have to talk," and lead her away from the group.

Jace would have gone after them if it hadn't been for his brother's heavy but gentle hand on his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**Chapter Four- **

Robert rowed his little boat out into the middle of that large expanse of water, nothing to see for miles except the towering green evergreens and glittering lake. He allowed the boat to sway gently on the water, looking around with a smile as though for the first time taking in the beauty of the area in which he lived. Clary sat across from him silently, her hands folded in her lap.

"Look around you," he spoke eventually. "It's teeming with life. Always changing, growing–like you, Clary. No day is ever the same for you, no matter what you do. _You're_ never the same. Only a few years ago you were a child, and now you will soon become a woman. One day you'll become even older, have children if you want to."

An image of a grinning Jace picked its way into Clary's mind, and a smile of her own began trying to fight its way onto her lips.

"And after all of that is said and done, you'll go out, just like the flame of a candle, and you'll make way for new life. There's a sort of comfort in that certainty, knowing that that's the natural order of things." Robert paused and glanced briefly up into the sun, his eyes squinted.

"And then, Clary… there's us. What we Lightwoods have can't be called _living_. We just _exist_, we just are, like rocks." He looked at her seriously. "Clary, you know something very dangerous. If people were to find out about us and that spring, can you imagine what would happen?" Clary didn't think he was really looking for her to answer, so she kept her mouth closed. "There would be chaos, over-population as nations fought their way to everlasting life. But do _you_ want to stay _stuck_, like we are, forever, and never have the chance to really live out your life? You'd be losing something so very precious, something so precious and–_common _that most people don't even see it that way at all. But I just need you to understand, somehow. Can you do that for me?"  
After a moment, Clary said, her creeping sadness making her a bit defensive, "I don't want to _die_; is that wrong?"

"Of course it isn't. Nobody _wants_ to leave all they love behind for the unknown. But that's the way it's meant to _be_. Things are brought into this world at the exact moment others leave it to make room for them. You can't have life without death. It's frightening, but what you have to be afraid of isn't death itself. It's the fear of an unlived life."

Little did the Lightwoods know that the man in the white suit was watching, watching as they went about their day and Robert spoke with Clary on the water. He had them in the palm of his hand, and therefore did not hurry to the Fairchilds' home.

He rang their doorbell and waited patiently, exuding his calm composure onto their porch. Sophie opened the door and inquired what he needed, and when he told her the news he had brought for her employers Sophie was quick to tell them of it.

Her eyes shining, clutching her husband's hand, Jocelyn Fairchild sat opposite the devious white suited man. She could hardly contain herself as she watched him sip the second cup of tea that had been brought to him. He acted as though this were a simple catching up of old friends, as though her daughter were not in the hands of a family of madmen.

"She is with them now, as we speak," he went on eventually. Luke's right hand flew to rest atop the hands he and his wife already held clasped between them. "As soon as I saw them I made sure to come because I know how tormented you must be."  
"We just–we just want her returned to us, safe," said Jocelyn, her voice catching.

"Of course you do. Dreadful, isn't it, the abduction of children? It is quite fortunate that I was witness, don't you agree?" Jocelyn and Luke shared a quick look. "I'm perhaps the only person who knows where to begin to find her."

His blue eyes flashing and Jocelyn's jaw set, Luke rigidly questioned the man before him, "What exactly is your game, sir?"  
The man, about to again sip from his cup, hesitated in the slightest, but his hand did not tremble. "'Game'? Do you detect in me a playful mood?"  
"Playful is not the word I had in mind."

He set down his tea cup, an impish smile darting across his lips before telling the Fairchilds, "What I have in mind, I assure you, is simply a fair-cut trade. You see, I very much like your woods. Not for the timber, mind you, but its other… assets…"

"Well, what is that you want?" Luke inquired tersely.

"You want your daughter… I want something I believe to be much less precious to you–your woods."

Luke looked to his wife and then back to the man in the white suit. "You're involved in this, somehow, aren't you?" Luke, his mind assaulted with the worst of images he could barely stand to think of, jumped to his feet and somehow ended up just in front of the man in the chair before him. Jocelyn held his hand from her seat, hoping that her comforting thoughts would soothe her husband. But she herself was nursing a sick stomach at that moment.

"I have my faults, Mr. Fairchild, I'll be the first to admit to that. But kidnapping is not amongst them." His cold, dark eyes found Jocelyn. "These are rough people that took your daughter. There is no telling what they may do to her."

"Unless," elucidated Luke with disdain, "we do what you say."

There was a silence a span of three seconds in which Jocelyn Fairchild made up her mind. Her eyes never left the pale face of the man in the white suit as she told her husband, "Give the man whatever he wants."

The man nodded sagely, but his eyes glimmered with the knowledge that he had known they would arrive to this moment regardless of whatever had occurred previous to it.

It was 15 minutes later that the deed was signed and the woods belonged to a new owner.

As they exited the house the man in the white suit said, "You're an intelligent and reasonable man, Fairchild," while he slipped the papers into his briefcase. "And I know myself to be an excellent judge of character." He held out his hand for Luke to shake; Luke only fixed him with an icy stare in return. The man looked away with a smirk Luke did not catch sight of.

"Be sure you have your friend the constable on hand to make the appropriate arrests," he threw over his shoulder as he walked off.

As these dozens of men rode through the forest, the Lightwoods were packing to head out of town. Robert and Alec were sorting their belongings out on the top bed of the trailer when Maryse glanced over with a sad frown etched on her face.

"This isn't fair," she said with devastating simplicity.

"No," her husband agreed. "But when has life ever been considered fair?" Alec paused and looked between the two before continuing his work. It had never been fair to him, nor to the love of his life and his children.

By the porch, Clary had her face buried in Jace's shoulder while she tried to memorize the smell of him. His white-clothed arms were wrapped around her back as he murmured to her, "How am I supposed to take you home when I don't even want to move from this spot?"

Her emerald eyes were blinking furiously to keep the tears from slipping, and Jace tried and failed to smile down at her, cupping her smooth freckled cheek in his hand.

"I am sorry to interrupt this tender moment," the man in the white suit spoke up suddenly. The two broke apart, confused and wide-eyed. But Clary recognized the man after she really looked at him. The realization nearly sent her to her knees.

"Hello, Clarissa," the man greeted her. His eyes betrayed his kind voice, and neither Clary nor Jace made a move. "Everyone's been so worried about you. I must say, I myself am relieved to find you so… well." His tone held the distinct ring of his displeasure and Clary swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.

Sensing her discomfort, Jace's hand found her lower back and rubbed with the slightest pressure. _I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. _

"Clary, do you know this man?" he asked her quietly.

"I met him once, for only a short time…"

At that moment, Robert faced the group. His mouth opened perceptibly in astonishment upon setting eyes on the stranger.

"Hello, Mr. Lightwood," said the man in the white suit amiably. Alec stood up straight on the top of the cart and his mother also paused in her work.

"You have no idea what a pleasure it is to meet you," the man added.

Walking towards him, Robert said without introduction, "You're the man that's been following my boys." Alec went after his father, as did Maryse, though her son appeared ready for a fight. "We've been expecting you."

"Yes. And here I am. Tell me–is it somewhat of a relief to finally be discovered? Over a century of hiding away must have taken its toll on you and your family."

"Who are you?" Maryse asked him, her crystal eyes narrowed. "And how have you found out so much about us?"  
"Well, I first heard about your family from my grandmother. She worked as a nurse in the mental facility…" Alec's fists clenched. "One patient she had many talks with, she said, always ranted about a family who never grew old, never died. The patient, this women… she used to call out a name. What was it? Isabelle."

At the all-too familiar name, Alec's expression morphed from one of anger to crushing sadness. "She would talk about a music box," the man went on, "and how its melody had a sort of… calming effect on her children when they were young."

He whistled the tune, and Maryse could only stare. Alec was sure he would weep if this man continued.

"You have no right," Maryse told the man, choked, "to come here to our home and bring us such pain."

"I mean no harm," the man assured her. However, his words and demeanor were not all that reassuring.

Robert, who had been gripping his eldest son's shoulder to give him support, started forward. "Tell us, then," he said. "What is it that you're looking for in coming here?"  
"Well, you see, the Fairchilds have given me these woods in exchange for the return of their daughter home to them." Clary held onto Jace, his arm secure around her waist. "If you don't believe me, I've got the papers and they are all signed and very much legal. They give me the right to this forest and all it contains, but I've already decided to grant you allowance to remain here." The man smiled, the undertones proving malicious. "If you're cooperative, of course."

Robert lifted his heavy eyebrows. "Cooperative?"  
"Yes. I want you to bring me to that spring."

His face unchanging Robert told him, "I'm not sure what you're referring to."  
"Let's not run in circles, shall we?" the man in the white suit replied smoothly. "It has become immediately clear to me that the water of that spring has only ever been wasted on the likes of people such as you. I, however, intend to make this Fountain of Youth," a smile here, "available to those who deserve it. The elite few. For a price."

"You'll die of old age," Robert said, "before I'll take you to that spring."

"Is that so?"

Before any member of the Lightwood family could so much as blink, the man in the white suit withdrew a pistol from his bag and had Clary in his arms, amid her own screams and Jace's shouts of anger.

The gun blew and Jace was shot mid yell, his knees buckling as he bent over. Clary screamed his name, her face contorted in fear, and Jace caught himself on the way to the ground. He breathed roughly out, a single circle of blood visible on the white fabric covering his abdomen. Robert reached for him, but after another second Jace was climbing slowly back to his feet, his hair slipping in front of his glinting eyes. They were as sharp as steel and just as unforgiving.

Clary was wide-eyed in disbelief and shock. Now she had seen it with her own eyes. He had already healed.

She stared at Jace, ready to say something, anything, but before anyone could speak the man in the white suit began dragging Clary away, his front facing the men. "So, Clarissa, I'm feeling a bit thirsty. Show me where the spring is." She scrunched up her face, wishing she could kick him. "Maybe I'll even let you drink some, and we could spend eternity together." He was clearly saying these things to get a rise out of the youngest Lightwood, but it was working. Jace growled at him, his own nails digging into his palms like glass shards.

All of a sudden, the man in white grunted and pitched forward, his arm falling away from Clary's neck. She herself cried out as she was brought to the leaf strewn ground on top of him. His empty eyes stared up at her unseeingly, his lips parted with unsaid words. Jace swallowed and jumped forward, picking Clary up off of the man in the white suit.

"Clary, hey," he murmured, gathering the trembling girl in his arms.

Behind the man in the white suit, Maryse was rocking on the ground, her face hidden as she sobbed. The shotgun she had used was flung some feet away.

Robert stepped over the man and knelt in front of her, holding her to him without a word.

Alec, who had been watching all of this in silent horror, now looked around and then to Robert. He could hear them. They were coming.

"Father," he said in a warning tone.

No sooner had Robert seen the men than they had seen the Lightwoods.

"There they are! Clarissa Fairchild! We've got her!" From the opposite side of the wood a shout of, "I see her!" rang out, along with calls from every direction. Through this, Robert told Alec to get out of the area in hushed tone; Alec told his brother to go as well. Jace went to follow unthinkingly, until he realized he and Clary were still gripping hands.

"Jace, it's my father, it has to be!" she told him, her expression horrified. Amid the shouts of her name, Clary looked beseechingly at Jace. Alec, however, ran up and hit his arm.

"Let's _go_, Jace, come on!"

Clary nodded for him to go but he paused upon mounting to look back at her. When she could think, she realized that Robert had set the house on fire. Everything, she knew, was crumbling to pieces where she stood.

"Clarissa!" she heard just before her father ran to her and held her tightly in his embrace. "We found you; you're safe now." He wiped her tears and Clary returned his hug, but her crying was not due to how deeply she had missed her father. She had. But even in his arms she believed she could hear the galloping of Alec's horse through the wood, Jace on Simon's back… without her.

No. They hadn't saved her.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The**__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: Recognize the TMI quotes/references? They're from City of Fallen Angels and City of Glass–tell me what they are and you get a shout out. Also, I'd like to say that I didn't even remember that Clace actually went to Paris and the Eiffel tower. *tear **

**Chapter Five- **

Robert and Maryse, imprisoned, were without a word as they passed away the time together. Robert sat on that hard bench in that jail cell, staring at the wall, while his wife paced and played her music box, her habit.

Now back home, Clary was seated in her parlor as her mother fanned herself by the window. She was more hurt than she would let on, but how could her daughter know this? She remained calm and stoic, and Clary remained resentful and quiet. Her father and Ralf, meanwhile, were waiting for Clary to say something, anything, about her time with the Lightwoods. They looked worriedly at her, but she kept her eyes trained on the carpet.

"We just… We just want to understand, Clarissa," Luke told her, his blue eyes pleading. She looked up across at him, unsure of how to respond. What could she say that they would listen to? It was over. It was all over.

"Please, just try," he said. Jocelyn turned to face them, her own face expectant then.

The clock in the hall chimed, the only sound. It seemed everything was simply _waiting_.

If Clary said nothing, her parents would think the worst of her condition. She could try to tell them the truth, not the whole of it, of course, but just enough to satisfy them, maybe.

"They didn't kidnap me," she ended up telling them. "I–I was with them because… because it was where I _wanted_ to be." Clary glanced at her lap and Jocelyn hurried forward, a single piece of auburn hair flying from its pin.

"She doesn't know what she's saying."

"The Lightwoods were kind to me," insisted Clary. "They're my _friends_."

While Jocelyn was hurt, Luke only wanted to understand. "If they didn't kidnap you as you say," he said, "then why on earth did that woman hit that man over the head with a shotgun?"

"Because Maryse was protecting me."

"It doesn't make a difference anyway," Ralf spoke up then. "That man was killed, and it's considered a murder charge now. I didn't much like him but… that won't stop that poor woman from being hanged."

Clary's eyes widened.

"Your daughter's an eye witness," Ralf went on to Luke. "She'll have to testify."

A mortified Jocelyn fled from the room, and Clary blinked hard to stay her tears. Her father breathed out and used the pressure of his hands against his thighs to push himself up. "You'd better get going," he said to Ralf as he did so.

The constable followed his lead. "I agree."

Once outside, Ralf pulled the deed out of his pocket and handed it to Luke. "I figured you would want it back. Considering all that's happened, it doesn't exist as far as I'm concerned. I'm sorry about all of this, Luke."

Luke nodded and Ralf walked on down to the road, leaving a worried and upset Luke behind him.

Clary had went up to her bedroom as soon as her father had left the parlor, her sense of depression deepening the more she thought of what fate held in store for Mrs. Lightwood. She didn't deserve that, and Clary felt absolutely useless to do anything besides sit and frown at her hands. Once again, she had been made back into a little girl. She hated it.

Night came, along with thunder and its accompanying partner known as lightning. Clary had snuggled into her now unfamiliar bed at around nine, her body and mind exhausted.

She missed Jace. She missed staying up until all hours talking with him on the porch, or whispering in his and Alec's room where his brother would snap at them to hush up. But even Alec had grown used to Clary, and she him. Imagining not being able to sneak back down from Jace's room each night or early morning to fall onto her own mattress and blankets left a hard ball in her stomach and throat, the sound of his laughter echoing in her ears.

_Where has he gone?_ she wondered. _Is he very far away, now, with Alec? Maybe they've gone back to Paris…_

A sharp twang penetrated Clary's sleep, and then another. She awoke, blinking her blurred eyes, and threw off her blankets in confusion. She stood and went to her window just as the sound came again. It was a stone being thrown!

Clary slid open her window and looked down to the ground so far below her room.

"_Jace_!" she cried, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

He smiled up at her and his pale hand lifted to wave at her slightly. His golden hair was washed out in the moonlight to an unearthly and almost silver shade.

"Clary. Hey," she barely heard him say. "Can you come outside? It's important."

She would have met him if it was completely trivial.

Clary ran from her room, her padding feet for once unheard, and threw herself out her front door. Jace was already right there waiting, his arms enveloping her, welcoming, so familiar that Clary nearly cried.

"Jace," she said again, gazing up at him. "I was afraid I'd never see you again."

"You think I could ever stay away?" he replied, a smile on his lips.

"After what happened… I wasn't sure–"

"That's why I'm here," he told her. "Clary, we need your help. You know Mother's going to be hanged, but she _can't_ die. Everyone'll find out about us, and after what she did to stop that man in the white suit… We have to–"

"We've got to get them out of the jail," said Clary, her eyes wide.

"Exactly. Will you help?" Jace asked her, his voice hopeful, as if he wasn't sure she would. Clary rolled her eyes and kissed him, his cheeks held between her hands. "Of course I will," she murmured when she had dropped down from her tiptoes. "And we'll save them. I swear. I swear on us."

"Why us?"

"Because," Clary told him, "there isn't anything I believe in more."

They devised a plan. It included all of them, especially Jace and his brother, and once Jace had kissed Clary, hard, they were off.

The wind blew and the noose of the gallows swung grimly as Clary ran, her nightdress billowing, towards the jailhouse. She glanced back at the brothers once before rapping on the door, her heart pounding in excitement. She was becoming like Jace in that way, acquiring a sort of feverish love for a challenge.

"Help me!" she shouted over the roaring wind. "Help me _please_!"

Jordan Kyle, the sleeping deputy, only awoke after she had shouted and pounded for a good five seconds, and stood tiredly to walk to the door. As soon as he had the door open, Clary lurched into the room and said, "Please, you have to help me, you have to stop them; they're after me!"

"Ms. Fairchild," he said, confused and rubbing his eyes, "who's after you?"

"The men that kidnapped me; they're going to take me away again!" Her voice choked with faked tears, Clary went on, "My parents couldn't stop them and they're right outside! You have to get them!"

Jordan sighed and picked up his rifle off the wall. Clary continued to sob, nearly laughing once or twice at the ridiculousness of it all. But he believed it, and that's all that mattered.

"Stay there," Jordan ordered. "I'll take care of it."

Clary whined until the door shut behind him, yelled a last time for good measure, and then she took off into the back, to the cells.

Jordan stood in the entryway of the jailhouse, his eyebrows drawn together as he saw the slow approaching men outside. Both wore black cloaks that reached the tops of their boots and carried long, curved swords. The lightning flashed and he could see they were both quite young but the one that yelled out could only be a kid.

"Come out and meet your doom!" was what he said. Jordan, however, could not see the laughter that threatened to escape his body or the smile that the man beside him could hardly contain. "Hell is upon you!"

"Stop right there!" Jordan told them as they again moved forward, quicker. The older of the two wielded his blade in a menacing fashion, ignoring him. "You're under arrest!"

Meanwhile Clary, having grabbed the jangling silver keys, tore into the back room. "Clary?" Robert exclaimed, jumping up.

"The boys are outside 'causing a diversion,'" quoted Clary breathlessly, with no time to laugh at Jace's earlier words, "and we've gotta hurry!"

"Stay back!" Jordan shouted. He shot once at Jace, who cried out and dropped to the ground with a dramatic twist, and the next shot struck his brother. Alec had kept himself wide open for that exact reason.

They were both down, Jordan knew, as good as dead.

But as the thunder cracked across the sky with its partner, Alec pinched his brother to keep it going as they had planned. Jace sat up, on his feet once more. He smiled as he examined himself, Alec standing beside him.

Seeing that these men wouldn't die, Jordan took off down the road, the rifle still gripped in his hand. The Lightwood brothers looked to each other and burst out laughing. Still gasping, they made sure to ready their horses and cart.

Just as soon as they had finished doing so, the jailhouse doors were thrown open to reveal Robert, Maryse, and Clary, an angel in white.

Maryse tearfully brought Clary in a close hug and murmured, "My dear Clary. What I wouldn't do to keep you." She held her face in her hands. "I wish you were ours. For Jace. For all of us. " Maryse kissed Clary's cheek and Clary wiped her eyes with her palms.

"Go," she said, her voice a croak, "you have to get out of here." She hurried Maryse onto the trailer beside her husband.

Jace, then, came to Clary and spoke her name in a reverent whisper. He kissed her and said, "Please come with me. There's nothing for you here, you know that. We can be together forever."  
"If she comes with us, son," Robert said sadly, "they'll hunt us down. You know they'll never stop looking for her."

"Robert is right," Clary told Jace, her hand on his neck as she looked up at him. "If I went with you it would only put you all in danger."

Jace pulled Clary away from the cart, slightly out of sight of his family, and said, his amber eyes wet, "Clary, I need you. I can't go without you."

Her throat released a strange, choked sound and she kissed him, drawing him close. "You have to," she whispered. Her hot tears ran onto his baggy shirt, but neither was paying any attention.

He rubbed her curls away from her sticky face and kept his hand on her cheek. "Go back to the spring, okay? Drink from it, when it's safe. And I swear, Clary, I'll come back for you."

"You do still have to show me the Eiffel tower."  
"You never let me off the hook for a single minute, do you?" he asked her, his light tone cracking.

"Sixteen hundred fifty-two steps to the top," she said. She was in much the same condition, but laughed painfully along with him.

"And don't forget–until we're together again, do what we always did: wake up with the dawn, and take every day as your own."

Clary nodded, her cheeks red and soaked.

"Clary," he said after a second, speaking her name like a prayer, "I love you. There is no pretending. I will love you until I die, and if there's a life after that I will love you then." Clary let out a garbled laugh at Jace's words as he leaned down to place a kiss on her lips one last time.

"Jace," Alec called, sounding regretful, "we have to go. Before it's too late."

Jace ignored his brother, as did Clary, and they stared into one another's eyes just to memorize what they saw there.

And then he nodded once at Robert, who whipped the horses to go on. They did, and Jace squeezed Clary's hand before letting her go and jumping on the moving trailer.

She stood frozen and watched in silence until it, and her family, was out of sight.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

In her time away, Clary's grandmother had fallen deeper into her illness. As time passed, the doctors told Jocelyn that Adele had less and less of it. During one of his last visits the doctor murmured to Jocelyn things that her daughter, who stood just outside Adele's bedroom, could not quite make out. But she knew enough to know that it wasn't anything good.

Her mother lowered herself carefully onto Adele's bed, taking her hand gently in hers. Adele opened her eyes briefly, a smile appearing, but fell back into sleep just as quickly. Jocelyn stood, then, and lifted the covers away from her mother in order to slide in beside her. She rested her arm, very lightly, over Adele's stomach and held her, her head resting on her chest like she had done as a young girl.

Clary watched this, sadness etched on her face but unable to look away. It hurt to see her mother this way.

"…Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the reverend intoned nearly a month later. The family stood around Adele's grave, not even hearing the words that were spoken.

Jocelyn stood stone-faced behind the rest, her veil covering her tearless eyes. Clary left her place beside her father and bravely took her mother's hand in hers, something she would never have thought to do a few weeks ago.

Her mother raised her eyes to Clary and, though her expression hardly changed, she squeezed her daughter's hand.

It was later that day that Jocelyn stood outside their home, near the fence. She was lost in her own thoughts, and unaware of her daughter coming to stand behind her. "Mother?" Clary said worriedly.

Jocelyn waved her off with a gentle flick of her hand. "I was just wondering what it is that you love so much about these woods."

When Jocelyn looked at Clary, Clary could see that her mother's eyes were shining with tears, unshed before that moment. "Mother," Clary said, "are you alright?"

Though she appeared ready to say that she was in fact fine, Jocelyn's face crumpled into tears. Clary, though surprised by this, held her mother's hand. "I'm gonna miss her too."

Jocelyn nodded, trying to smile, and brought her free hand to Clary's chin affectionately. "Every time I look at you, you're different," she said. "And slowly… I'm losing you too."

Clary began to cry and her mother hugged her, kissing her cheek.

"I'm right here," she said wetly into Jocelyn's hair.

"Forgive me, my dear," said Jocelyn, rubbing her back. "I just wanted you to be my little girl forever."

_Forever._

The following day, Clary dressed in a skirt she had fashioned specially for the woods–as it was made of an old patterned bedsheet–and went out into the forest. She found her way to the spring and knelt beside it, running her fingers through it. It was the same water she had seen Jace drink, the same water his family had taken to grant them everlasting life. Jace had said for her to sip from the spring as well when it was safe and that he would come back for her.

The cat she had seen on the opposite side of her fence meowed beside her, its dark eyes gazing up at her in wordless question.

_We just exist, we just are_, Robert's voice came into her mind. _It can't even be called living._

Clary caught sight of her reflection in that water and removed her hand slowly, drying it on her skirt. That was the Clary that Jace knew, the Clary that would only be for a short time longer. She had a decision to make. But what would she choose? _How_ could she choose?

_The first weeks of summer were long over. Life was going on as it always had, much better but all the while much the same. As she had requested, Clary and her family left their small town to see the world. She wasn't certain what her journey might bring, but this much she knew: it would be something of her _own_ choosing._


	8. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Tuck Everlasting**_**, any of the lines I use from the movie/book, or anything pertaining to it. I also do not own **_**The **__**Mortal Instruments**_**, any lines I use, or anything pertaining to it. All the rights for all of these things go to their rightful owners. **

**A/N: This is it, folks. *tear The motorcycle is like the one from C.O.B., at the end.**

**Epilogue- **

Soon, automobiles replaced carriages and paved roads were poured over the dusty dirt paths. And one motorcycle of a metallic emerald color with silver-rimmed wheels took the place of the family horse, coming to a stop at the light of the intersection. Its rider, a helmet covering his face, glanced around him for other travelers before turning and continuing on to his destination.

He went on to the gravel path leading to the familiar estate, the trees above allowing only a few patches of light to fall on the ground before him. Upon reaching just outside her open gates, he stopped the bike and removed his helmet, his golden, wavy hair tumbling down to the tips of his shoulders.

For some, time passes slowly. An hour can seem an eternity. For Jace Lightwood, time didn't exist.

He dismounted from his motorcycle and carefully made his way through the hedges instead of the open gates. He stepped over and around the flowerbed, his black t-shirt and jeans casual. His eyes, however, were far from casual as they took in the gravestone some feet away.

Jace went to it, though he knew the name it read on the face. _Clarissa Adele Fairchild_.

As he approached, his broken expression never lessening, he clenched his fists in habit and then knelt before the grave.

Beneath her name, they had engraved _Dear wife and mother_. She had lived 100 years, until 1999.

Jace remembered all they had done together, all the things that they'd never gotten the chance to do. _You do still have to show me the Eiffel tower… _He closed his pooling eyes, her smiling face imprinted on his eyelids.

He wasn't sure how long he remained by her side, on his knees.

_Robert had said it to Clary the summer she'd turned 15. Do not fear death, only the unlived life. You don't have to live forever… you just have to __**live**__. And she had._


End file.
